-- *Mar*Certainly! Here’s a *short story* inspired by the themes of your essay — a reflection on speed, stillness, and rediscovering what it means to truly *live*. ------------------------------ *"The Boy Who Forgot to Breathe"*
In a gleaming city of glass towers and glowing screens, lived a boy named Aarav. He was fifteen, brilliant, fast, and always on the move. His teachers loved him because he submitted assignments before deadlines, solved equations before the rest of the class had even understood the question, and could recite entire textbooks from memory. His parents proudly told relatives, *“He’s ahead of his time.”* And he was. Aarav’s days were a blur—coding projects, online classes, leadership camps, test prep, internships, competitions. His smartwatch buzzed every hour, reminding him what to do next. He won medals, applause, scholarships… but strangely, never felt joy. After every goal, he felt a blankness. A silence. Like he had sprinted toward something and arrived to find… nothing. One day, while biking at full speed to another weekend class, he crashed—nothing serious, just a scraped knee and a bent wheel. But the bike wouldn’t ride. And his phone had died. So he sat down by the roadside, angry at the delay. It was a dusty path near the outskirts of town. There were no Wi-Fi signals, no billboards, no traffic. Only a tree. And under it, a child—maybe five years old—was crouched, staring into the grass. Aarav walked over, curious. “What are you doing?” he asked. The boy looked up, smiled, and said, “Watching the ants move the biscuit I dropped.” Aarav frowned. “That’s boring.” The boy giggled. “Not really. They work together. See that one? He’s the leader. And that one pretends to help but doesn’t really. Like in our school group projects.” Aarav knelt down, despite himself. The ants were working in strange coordination, forming trails, lifting weight far larger than themselves. He watched for five minutes. Then ten. Then twenty. Time seemed to slow down. Then stop. He noticed the warm breeze. The rustling leaves. The softness of the earth. A bird singing. And then something strange happened. He took a *deep breath*. His first in years, it felt like. A breath that went all the way down to his soul. And he realized — he had forgotten how to breathe. He had been rushing through life, ticking boxes, chasing futures, living in screens. But he hadn’t *felt* anything for a long time. Not joy. Not wonder. Not even sadness. He looked at the boy again, now humming to himself and poking a stick into the dirt. “Why aren’t you in school?” Aarav asked. The boy shrugged. “I am. This is nature school. My grandfather says we should learn to watch first… then speak.” Aarav didn’t have an answer. Only a strange feeling rising in his chest. Something like loss. And something like… hope. He never made it to his class that day. Instead, he sat under the tree for hours. Watching ants. Breathing deeply. Feeling. For the first time, Aarav wasn’t ahead of time. He was inside it. ------------------------------ 🌿 *Moral:* In chasing the future, don’t forget to live the present. Sometimes, stopping is how we move forward. ------------------------------ Would you like a story in another style — fable, sci-fi, historical, or something more personal? -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "Thatha_Patty" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to [email protected]. To view this discussion visit https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/thatha_patty/CACDCHCL0fQLGnLLD33Li-3G1dhiHBcRhQGwOOofGEVUu9bibvQ%40mail.gmail.com.
